


All it takes

by ConsultingDetection



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-His Last Vow, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:02:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingDetection/pseuds/ConsultingDetection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Violet Smith is a successful and admired medicine lecturer at a university. But her peaceful and successful life turns upside down when she discovers her office trashed and searched. But nothing was taken. Next thing she knows, her house has also been raided. She decides to meet the one man who she knew since she was little and help her with her mystery raid: William Sherlock Scott Holmes. But will he remember her? Will their childhood change their relationship? And how will they solve this case involving ‘The ‘Cure’ and the mysterious cyclist following her every week?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Calamity office

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovelies! This is my very first fic I have published, and I am aware that my English skills are probably absolutely terrible...But I hope that it makes sense to some degree. This fic is loosely based on the short Sherlock Holmes story of 'The Adventures of the Solitary Cyclist' by Doyle. In thae canon, Violet is engaged, and is a private music lecturer. In this, she is single, with a dog as a pet, instead of a fiance. This chapter is kinda short, because I want to make sure it is understandable. If it's okay, I will post a newer and longer chapter in a week or so. This is ongoing, so please forgive me if I do not post for ages... I am terrible at titles and chapter names, so don's judge the story by its names! I suck....Anyways, review this as much as you like! The more reviews I get, the more I can improve this! Oh, and feel free to send me corrections too.

Chapter 1

Violet Smith woke up, feeling sore and tired. She didn't sleep well, as usual. Thanks to her insomnia. She has never liked her Mondays; waking up to find that her only lecture is only two hours long, before she can go home. Her beloved Irish Setter dog Ruby happily climbed into her bed a few seconds after the alarm, happy to see her owner, eager to go for a walk. Her canine teeth gently and lovingly grazing Violet’s arms, her fur stroking flesh of the human.

“Not now, Ruby. As soon as I get home, we will go walkies.” Violet gently smiled to her dear company she had for the last 8 years.  After lazily getting out of her warm covers, Violet walks into the bathroom, and proceeded to get washed. She sighed as she looked in the mirror, after applying her everyday make up. She never saw herself as beautiful, despite all of the comments her peers and students have made. Violet has an oval face with striking green eyes and dark brown hair. Her skin was that of marble; pale and smooth. Finally dressed in her tan jeans, white t-shirt and a long, light pink over-shirt. Her dog was whimpering in excitement, almost going on her hind legs, begging to go with her to work. Ruby was admired by strangers and that of friends alike, thanks to her excellent training. Friendly as they come, the dog was almost that of an animal masterpiece to many. Violet quickly set out on her city bike, making her journey to the Queen Mary University. Keeping fit was not Violet's top priority, but she liked to express her emotions through pedaling, running and swimming. 

A typical rainy day was something Violet has been used to ever since she could remember. And she preferred it that way. The smell of the gentle droplets descending from the sky, and kissing the surface of the earth gave Violet a sense of peace she could rarely find. Even though cycling to work during a cold rainy autumn morning wasn't exactly paradise, it satisfied Violet well. It was for her, another day in the laboratory, teaching her university students the wonderful world of medicine; dissecting bodies, and listening to the ignorant chattering of her students, but Miss Smith is one of the most admired teachers, thanks to her patience equivalent being equivalent that of a saint. 

The traffic was busy, as always.

“Good thing I woke up early…” Violet sighed to herself, as she cycled and snaked her way through the cars and their impatient workers. She checked her watch. 7:35. Way too early. Regardless, Violet always preferred being early, rather than late. When she finally got to the university, dismounting her bike, going into so-called ‘the building of doom’. Already, crowds of other teachers went past, muttering their good mornings, carrying their prepared paperwork for their tutorials, along with their beverage cups. Violet had her own office, unfortunately on the highest floor of the building. _Maybe I should take the lift_ … She thought to herself. As she walked towards the lift, a sign was stuck on the door, reading: LIFT NOT WORKING.

“Oh, brilliant…” She muttered in agony.

“Not your day, eh?” Violet’s best friend Lucia cheerfully added, sneaking up behind her shoulder. But Violet was used to Lucia's daily scares, and so did not even flinch. 

“Nope. Gosh, no wonder Mondays suck to most people…” The medicine tutor replied in frustration. Violet never liked Mondays, just like many people in the world.

“Good thing you have only 2 hours of teaching today. I have five. FIVE! So consider yourself lucky!” The red-head replied back. Violet was envious of Lucia’s timetable. Lucia taught forensic sciences to her students. It was very easy to then discuss sciences with each other, and occasionally talk about their fellow arrogant scientists they have to put up with. Many of the students in the university were highly intelligent, but arrogant. But Violet had taught her students to avoid arrogance, since it is prone to them becoming weak, and therefore failing in the near future. 

“Mmm, sorry…” Violet whispered, with a hint of guilt in her voice. Secretly, Violet would rather prefer a slightly longer day on Mondays. Getting up early and cycling all the way to her 10-mile journey to work was not pleasurable, especially just for a 2-hour tutorial. But she is naturally submissive, and goes by the rules. Ascending the stairs, she  looked at her watch again. 8:04. Perfect timing. In 26 minutes, her lesson starts, and finishes two hours later. When finally arriving on the top floor, Violet frustratingly flips out her office key which she automatically puts in her jean pocket every day.  

“Jesus, why can’t designers make deeper pockets for women’s’ trousers these days!? So annoying…” She muttered under her breath. Perfectly timed, as the headmaster walked past her. He gave her a concerned look, signifying his awareness of what Violet said. Lucia was known to always wear very good clothes. Even though neither of them were fashion fanatics, they had to dress well in order to give a positive impression on everyone at the university. Violet had admired Lucia for many years. Lucia was a tall, and beautiful tanned woman in her late twenties. She had flame red hair flowing down her back, coupled with a slender figure. Her face was round, with puffy lips and large brown eyes which captured both men and women. Lucia's cheerful company was always enjoyed by Violet. She was one of the few people Miss Hunter could trust, and because Violet's social circle was as tight as a rubber band. 

“Looks like women are still living in a patriarchal world, huh?” He asked the already tired Violet.

“I do apologize, Mr. Waters…”

“Oh no, don’t apologize for that, dear. But do try and make your views a bit more subtle, especially in a learning environment. Good morning.” He then continued walking, obviously showing his pride in the university, with his old age, disproportionate to his size. His warm presence allowed everyone to respect and trust him. He especially admired tutors who are early, like Violet. In result, he trusted her as much as she did. Getting well with fellow co-workers and students alike was vital in the university, and Violet made the most of it. She prefers her life quiet and peaceful, even though a hint of adventure would never hurt her, and Lucia was doing most of that for her. But ever since her parents were killed, she feared the outside world. The trauma had been long in her, despite all the positive therapy she received.

Violet continued to traverse to her office, masking away all the memories of her cruel past. Getting out her keys, she inserted them into the lock. What she was about to see will forever change her life. As she entered the office, everything was turned, thrown all over the place, all the paperwork was on the floor. Her whole office was trashed. It took her roughly ten seconds to figure out what she is seeing. Her knees buckled, her heart was in her mouth. Her head felt like it was off its shoulders. Violet just stood there, not knowing what happened, who did this, when they did this, and most importantly, why.

It took her several seconds to figure out what she is looking at. She slowly started to walk into the office, enveloped by the mess of paperwork and files. She was not avoiding stepping onto anything. Horrified, she paced, oblivious to whatever was on the floor. Everything was searched, every single file was opened, every single sheet of paper was either on the floor, scattered across her table, or thrown carelessly on the shelves opposite the desk. Her family portraits were also smashed. But it took Violet less than a second to realize that the impact on the glass of the frame was specific, meaning that someone must’ve hit the frame with something sharp, and with clear signs of anger, or desperation at least. She noticed that her formula sheets for specific chemicals she might teach her students were especially searched, many of them ripped and torn. Perhaps someone wanted a formula. 

Violet for a split second wanted to call the police. But what would they find? Nothing was stolen, just vandalized. The next thing Violet knew, Lucia came sprinting to the entrance of the office of the horrified lecturer. 

"Lucia, tell Waters to cancel my...lesson..." She tearfully told her friend.

"Violet....what....who...did this!?" Lucia slowly replied, placing her hands on Violet's shaking shoulders. 

"I don't know, but I might know someone who might help me." 

"What? Who? You mean the police? If that's what you mean, then you're on the right bloody path!" Lucia started to turn to her phone, but a hand grabbed hers in protest.

"No, Lucia. Anyone but the police...please, Lucia. Just tell Waters what I told you. Don't tell him this...just...just tell him that I am not well..." Violet tearfully replied.

"Okay...be careful, you hear me? Whoever did this will pay!" and at that, Lucia left in a hurry. 

Swallowing the tears were becoming more and more painful, as Violet prefers to hide her feelings. Her throat was starting to feel sore, and her eyes were hard to keep open. Taking out her phone from her pocket slowly, she knew only one person who would perhaps solve this. But she hasn't seen him for over 20 years, and she was feeling anxious. But if she wanted to find out who did this quickly, she would need to contact him. And that man is William Sherlock Scott Holmes. 


	2. Hyde Park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Managed to write this quicker than anticipated! Did this in my 1,5 break, in school....Yep, instead of doing something actually productive, I am writing a fic. Yay to Victoria...anyway, this chapter looks a bit tedious to me, but I had to write this, before it escaped from my head. This is pretty much an intro chapter to Sherlock, and what he's up to...(being an annoying asshole).

Chapter 2  
“Boring....dull...predictable...they’re having an affair...boring...boring...BORING!!!” Sherlock Holmes shouted at the television, quickly flicking through the channels, while John was sitting in his usual chair by the fireplace, resting his head on his hands from tiredness thanks to the difficult detective. The genius detective was sitting on his chair, with his knees under his chin, with a frustrated frown on his face. He has not had an interesting case for weeks.  
“Sherlock, no point in shouting at the TV...it’s not going to do as you say. Whatever’s on, it’s on. Just look in your mail. Maybe you might, I don’t know, find some case...? John suggested, being blatantly aware that he is ignored by Sherlock anyway.

“Shut up, John. I have checked 23 minutes ago. I would only get roughly 3-4 mails within that time period. And the likelihood of something even remotely interesting is slim. I'm BORED, John...I need to smoke...!” The raven-haired detective sighed to John, turning off the device that everyone calls ‘entertainment’. He never understood how people don’t go mad from exposing themselves to this useless piece of technology which only seemingly makes them even more idiotic than they already are.

“Cold Turkey, remember? No chance of you getting them anywhere around here. Anyway, I think Mary and the baby would want me home by now. I’ll see you later” John commented, lifting himself up from his favourite chair, picking up his jacket.

“I’ll go with you part way. Maybe the common advice of ‘getting fresh air’ will help. Though I doubt the idiocy of humans will help...” Sherlock replied, quickly getting up and tying his navy scarf around his long neck, and swiftly picking up his long coat, putting it on in one fluid motion.  
The two best friends went downstairs; passing Mrs Hudson who was carrying a tray with some what seemed to be gingerbread, according to Sherlock.

“Going out again, dearies? I have some biscuits for you ready, when you come back. Where are you off to anyway?” asked the kind housekeeper, eyeing Sherlock in particular.  
Sherlock turned to her, replying in a frustrated groan “Nowhere where you might be interes-“

“Just for some fresh air. Whereas, I'm off home. Some diapers might need to be changed...”John interrupted, giving the detective the don’t-insult-Mrs-Hudson look.

“Ah, I guess I shall see you boys later.” Martha said to the pair, heading upstairs.  
Sherlock and John closed the old 221B door shut, with John waving his hand at a passing taxi. If Holmes wanted to maintain the smallest amount of his sanity, he would have to try hard. He has ran out of nicotine patches, and was too lazy to go and buy some more.

“You know, the nearest pharmacy is only a few street away, and yet you are planning on going all the way to Hyde Park, and yet you can’t be bothered to pick up some more patches. That is just laziness taken to the next level, Sherlock. I’m surprised you’re dragging yourself out of here.” John remarked, catching a taxi.

“Oh, don’t tell me what to do and what you consider right or wrong. I can do what I want. Besides, you never know, maybe another dull passer-by might give me an interesting case. Perhaps I could fish for one ‘outside’ for once…” a sigh came from Sherlock. He was known to be an embarrassment when it comes to socialising, but in scenarios involving him being on the brink of ‘sanity’, he would do anything for an interesting case- or at least a case he rates higher than a 7, or a 6 if one gets lucky, if he is in a better mood, though that is a rarity.

"Well, I'm off. Good luck on your, well, case ‘fishing’ as you now call it.” The taxi was ready to depart.

“Hmph, doubt it…” The handsome detective muttered under his breath. The taxi parted, leaving Sherlock alone to cruise through the busy street on a Monday morning. He set off, brushing past a few girls, giggling as they went past. _God, can’t humans control themselves? Are they all like this?_ He thought to himself. Most of the time, he was glad to be more equivalent to a machine. But after Magnussen, Mary and even perhaps to a certain degree to Janine, his human side is now more visible. Sherlock does not approve of this, but he does at the same time, finds it a little more liberating. Maybe being a bit more human isn't as bad as it seems.

_But with Redbeard….oh, my dear Redbeard. My best friend…_

“UGH, STOP IT! STOP!” Sherlock realised that people near him are giving him odd looks. He only just realised that moment that he said that out loud. He awkwardly looks at the people, muttering a ‘sorry’ under his breath, and then attempting to hide his prominent features behind his collar. All the memories he thought he had erased, are slowly creeping onto him more day by day. This is not normal he thinks to himself again, crossing a few roads-nearing the grand park with every passing moment.

To try and relax, Sherlock took a few deep breaths, embracing the beating heart of London. Its noisy atmosphere gave him a chance to refresh, to recollect his thoughts, to organise his hard drive more. Businessmen and women came and went, cabs and buses signalling to one another, ambulance sirens echoing through the city. The air was cool and moist, and with every breath Sherlock took, the warm air from his tobacco-hungry lungs escaped.  
Nearing Marble Arch Station, the famous detective marched on, entering one of the park’s four corners, entering in. Horse-riders passed him, cyclists rushed for no reason but to make themselves look fit, joggers jogged, according to Holmes. All these daily activities confused him, making him question on how people stay sane-how do they not get bored?

Anyhow, he must accept his suffering from lack of nicotine OR tobacco. But he has a feeling that something is coming. Or more accurately, someone is coming. His instincts are usually always correct. But this one, for some reason, felt different. He continued his cruise, slowing his pace down, slowly adapting to his newly-called method of ‘case-fishing’.


	3. The flat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay, guys! I have had a chaotic week, and with mock and exams coming up, stuffing fanfiction is a challenge. Anyway, this one is kinda lengthy, and is mostly on Violet visiting 211B for the first time. Enjoy!

Violet’s knees and thighs were on fire, as she struggled cycling her way through the traffic. She knew she was close, thanks to the daily exercise she keeps loyal to. Her stamina was above average, even though she does have a history of several heart problems. She wasn’t sure whether her conditions were hereditary, since she was too young to remember her parents, and that neither of them existed after their death. All that is known is that both of them died in a fire in the French countryside where the family of three lived.

Swallowing her tears as much as she can tolerate physical pain, the brunette carried on, oblivious to the shouting and protesting of the passing cars, who were annoyed with her strategic dodging and snaking. But at a scenario like this, she wouldn’t care if she was charged a million pounds for her actions. Finding her office ruined after three decades of a peaceful life with paranoia was a traumatic experience. Violet was fully aware of the man she is intending to meet, and if she was quite frank, she was nervous. She was about to meet a man whom she is sure won’t remember her, let alone take her case. They have not seen each other since they were about six years old.

Her long light pink overcoat was flinging behind her, with her light brown backpack weighing her down, as she felt sweat forming on her back. She was gripping the bike handles so tight that she could feel hot blood pumping through her numb fingers, as her triceps and biceps were being pushed to her limits. ‘King’s Cross Station’ flashes through her eyes, indicating that she is getting very close. Her heart only started to beat faster, as she pressed on. Swiftly passing The British Library, London Euston Station, and before she knew it, Baker Street.

“Oh God, which door…” Violet gasped, as she was not sure which door the famous detective lived in. She finally came to a slow pace, feeling the relief of her heart, and her fingers slowly starting to gain sensation again. But her leg muscles were on fire, and her throat was as dry as a desert. And her empty stomach didn’t help either, since she does not usually have breakfast. She has always thought it slowed her brain functionality down dramatically. But today, she regretted not having anything to eat.

She slowly passed down the quiet street, carefully observing each and every door. She stopped by one which looked quite distinctive. It was near the Speedy’s Café, and was a grand, ebony door with a large gold knocker on the front of it. ‘221B’ was nailed on it as well, giving the door an almost menacing appearance, but also for some reason made Violet feel safe, vulnerable, and a little inferior. She was quite tall herself, but standing in front of it, she felt quite small. With a nervous sigh, Violet dismounted her bike, and dragged it carefully alongside, chaining it to the nearby fence. One of the café’s employees came out, and gave her a welcoming smile.

“Client?” He eagerly asked.

“Y…yes…I am a client, well, hopefully anyway.” Miss Smith managed to mouth out.

“Ah, I think Sherlock went out, but feel free to knock. Mrs Hudson should let you in and wait for him. Best not to wait by the doorstep!” He replied with a reassuring voice, clearly seeing her as especially nervous.

“Oh, thanks.” The beauty replied, giving him a forced smile. She hated to illustrate herself as someone weak, and very few do see her weak side. However, she is confident that Sherlock would see right through her. She dresses always neatly, however, with not a single dog hair, and no food indicators. But she bets that even by the colours of her clothes, Mr Holmes would deduct something out of her.

The young employee went back in again, taking some of the leftover food left by someone on the small table outside of the café. There were some people inside, but not many, judging by the lack of muttering. Violet has a tendency to observe at a high level when she is nervous, and she is becoming more and more aware of it with every passing second.

Nervously, she gave a long and tired sigh, and raised the heavy knocker, and let it hammer the door. What seemed to take hours, Violet heard quiet footsteps what seemed to be going down a fleet of stairs. An elderly woman opened the door, and gave very welcoming smile to the young lecturer.

“Can I help you, dear?” The woman asked Violet, holding the door wide open.

“Umm, I am here to see Sherlock Holmes. It’s an emergency, well, sort of. Well, depends on his version of ‘emergency’…” The young and evidently agitated woman replied, trying as hard as she can to not display her now trembling voice.

“Oh, Sherlock is out for now, but feel free to come in, dear! I can make some tea, since you do look rather troubled” The probably-house-keeper replied, gesturing Violet to come inside.

“Thank you, Miss…”

“Oh, Mrs Hudson, dear. I am the landlady here, but NOT a housekeeper.” Mrs Hudson warmly replied, going up the narrow staircase to the left of a small hallway. Violet followed nervously, taking off her backpack and almost dragging it with her up the stairs. Her legs were buckling with every step, but Violet knew that she was not one for giving up, so she pushed herself a little further. She had finally caught her breath, and her thirst levels have gown down, but Mrs Hudson’s offer of tea sounded more blissful than ever.

They have finally reached what seemed to be the second floor, and went through a small pentagonal hallway, with two doors with one of the left wall, and one on the nearer wall, next to the other door further to the left. Mrs Hudson quite anxiously opened it, as though she was preparing herself for some untidiness horrors what lie within. Violet was in slight awe at the beautiful room they both let themselves in.

“Well, here’s where the famous detective lives. That chair on the right is his, and the left one is John Watson’s. Feel free to sit in John’s. Sherlock passively loves his one, so avoid it, dear. I will pop downstairs and bring some tee, so make yourself at home.” The kind housekee-landlady told Violet, who paced slowly towards the fireplace.

“Thank you, Mrs Hudson…thank you…” Violet tearfully replied, who was relieved to be in a safe place at last.

Once Mrs Hudson left, Violet felt a gentle buzz in her jean pocket. She took out her phone, and looked at the text message she received from Lucia:

**I’VE TOLD WATERS YOU’RE OFF TODAY. ARE YOU OKAY? PLEASE REPLY ASAP!**

**-L.O.**

Lucia cared deeply, so Violet expertly thumbed in her reply:

**I’m fine, don’t worry. I’m at Sherlock’s. But he’s out. I’ll tell you later how it goes. Thanks for your help, I appreciate it :)**

**-VS**

And Violet really did appreciate it. Lucia seems the only person who cared for the quiet and quite anti-social surgeon. Violet was not a social butterfly, and even if she was, she would not have much time for socialising. Besides, her dog Ruby was good company anyway.

Violet breathed in the scent of what seemed to be of mint and wood, as she looked closely at the fireplace. It had all sorts of seemingly random objects placed on it, including papers stacked on top of each other, held together by a knife, and most oddly of all, a skull.

“My God, don’t tell me it’s real.” But it was real, based on Violet’s anatomical knowledge. “I guess some things don’t change, do they, Sherlock…?” Violet quietly breathed, smiling a little.

She turned around, and observed other small objects, like the head of some strange Bison skull with headphones, and a violin case with a resin near it placed on Sherlock’s chair. To the right of the fireplace, she could barely see a table, which was crowded with papers, and multiple laptops. The table was opposite a narrow but tall window, which gave a good view of the whole street. Violet slowly paced her way through the expensive-looking flat, eyeing and observing as much as she could, feeling her heart turn to its usual everyday pace. Her ears stopped ringing with blood, to Miss Smith’s relief. In the middle of the room, there stands a chair, which Violet assumes where all the clients sit. She slowly started to circle it, knowing that she will sit in it in a few hours, if not minutes.

She knew that her life could go either one way or another, based on whether Mr Holmes would take her case or not. She had to make it sound catchy, and persuasion is not among her strengths. Her mind was being clouded with all the possibilities her life could turn into. She eventually decided to sit in a large sofa opposite the fireplace, placed against a wall with vivid vintage designs on it. Exhausted, Violet dropped her bag beside her, and rested her head in her hands, with her elbows on her knees. For a spit second, she started to regret coming to 221B. What if this is a bad idea after all...? What if Lucia was right? 

“Someone’s exhausted, judging by your sweat and pose.” A baritone came to her left, ringing into her ears.


	4. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the slight delay; I am having my exams coming up, and shuffling fanfiction into my busy days is harder than ever! I managed to write this chapter in the school library, with a ridiculously gorgeous guy sitting opposite me. Yeah, he was a distraction! So, if this chapter is a bit crappy, blame him! I couldn't stop giggling....Anyway, enjoy! Reviews are always welcomed!

Chapter 4

 

Violet was startled and quite terrified to find the famous detective near her, with his deep voice repetitively echoing through her head. Her inevitable fate was now decided, through the apparently high-functioning sociopath.

“Sherl-ummm, Mr Holmes…” she managed to mouth out, as she looked up, revealing her face to him. She quickly observed his handsome face, noticing his very prominent sharp and highly-placed cheekbones, and those steely blue eyes she remembers ever since they last seen each other. His lips had that Cupid’s bow that made her slightly blush, feeling her heart rate increase once more. He was tall and lean, wearing a long black coat, with a sharp black suit underneath. It was simple, but stylish, modern.

Sherlock was staggered to see the one person whom he simply assumed had disappeared from the earth. She was to him, according to perhaps others, as ‘beautiful’, but then again, to Sherlock, beauty is simply a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models. She was extremely neatly dressed, not a single crease, not a single hair on her. His deductions floated gently above her, with descriptions of:

**Cyclist**

**Virgin**

**Single – never had a relationship**

**Keen swimmer**

**Medicine lecturer**

**Insomniac**

**Heart condition**

**Has eating problems**

“You cannot be who I think you are…” Sherlock nearly whispered, standing still as Violet raised her head to look at him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Never thought we’d ever see each other again, I know…” She replied, with a now again dry throat. This was far more awkward and agonizing that both of them anticipated. This will be no ordinary case to Sherlock, be it to his scale higher or lower than at least a 7.  But Sherlock being Sherlock, decided to maintain his stance, and not show any weaknesses, despite him being so intrigued to his childhood ‘friend’.

“I’m guessing you have a case for me, then. And judging by your elevated heart rate, and your bike, it seems it’s a fresh one; a few minutes old, actually. Am I wrong?” He asked her with as much uninterested poise as he could.

“No, you’re right. I have come to you instead of the police…” Miss Hunter replied.

“Mm, a wise choice. Finally, someone who appreciates me more than those idiots at Scotland Yard…” Sherlock groaned, as he began to take his dark navy scarf off, along with his coat.

“Oh, well, I do might still go. So…Your arrogance is not very…helpful, Mr Holmes…” Violet managed to mouth out. She remembered she was sitting on the sofa, so she stood up, and swiftly moved to the chair in the middle of the room. Sherlock never would’ve known that she grew up to be so tall. He remembered her as being a petite little thing, vulnerable to anyone who came near her

Sherlock sat down in his chair, resting his hands on each armrest, crossing his legs to make himself seem more superior, even though he knew he was already superior. Violet reminded him somehow of Irene, but much more modest, and not as tall. Miss Hunter is also a teacher or a lecturer, from her backpack, and some papers clearly visible from it, possibly linked with medicine. She seemed to rush when stuffing her papers, probably after whatever she discovered to make into a case.

Well, come on. What’s this about then, Violet?” Sherlock asked, stressing her name.

Violet explained the whole story, from her waking up to her coming into her office in as much detail as possible, but with careful consideration of not boring him. She remembers how easily he got bored, and that can occasionally make him go frantic. She is not sure what he does not if he goes nuts, but she’s sure it’s not something anyone would approve of. She also noticed that his friend John Watson was missing; however, she was sincerely aware that he now has a life of his own, since Miss Smith regularly reads his blog. Violet heard the footsteps of Mrs Hudson, carrying a tray of freshly hot tea.

“Thank you, Mrs Hudson” Violet smiled at the landlady with gratitude.

“You’re welcome, dear. Sherlock, be nice to this one, she’s a lovely lady!” Mrs Hudson, gesturing her look at Sherlock, who was ignoring her, overwhelmed by the woman in front of him already. Violet took a sip from her cup, engrossed by the delicious bliss of tea. God, she must have tea more often…

Sherlock was still bewildered and overwhelmed by Violet’s interior dominance, bringing him to his knees from the surprise of seeing her again, after nearly 30 odd years. He closed his eyes, and appeared thoughtful, agreeing to himself to take the case. With the hopes of John participating at some point, he assumes that Violet would serve as his company for the time being, if she’s not annoying.

Violet began anxiously fiddling with her nails, as she nervously awaited Sherlock’s response on either taking the case or not. She prayed to give herself credit even if he didn’t, for she was brave enough to actually pursue a man she hasn’t seen for nearly a lifetime.

“Well, let’s get on with this, then. Where do you teach at?” Sherlock finally replied after what seemed to be hours, making Violet jump a little.

“The Queen Mary University…” The lecturer replied, stopping the nail fiddling, looking up at the detective, but avoiding his steely gaze. She was also blushing, further justifying her reasons of avoiding his stare, which she was aware he was doing. She felt like he was staring through her soul; but what is there to look at? She was an ordinary young woman, seeking a place in her world, living a lonely life with her beloved Ruby, the Irish Setter dog. She does like to dress as neatly as possible, and she was sure that might make it more difficult for Sherlock to deduct. It was not intentional of her, so she avoided the thoughts of him deducing anything too personal about her.

Violet followed Sherlock, who was putting his scarf on, followed by his grand coat, swaying elegantly as he flung it over his broad shoulders, flattered by the black tailored suit and his purple shirt with the buttons so tight that Violet was sure would break at any given moment. The thought made her cheeks feel hot again. Jesus was she really that easy to be prone to blushing!? She put on her backpack, finishing the remaining tea, savouring every drop. Her thirst was gone, but her throat still felt dry from being so nervous.

“We’re going out, Mrs Hudson! Don’t touch the kitchen…”Sherlock loudly remarked

“I am not your housekeeper, anyway! And take care, Violet, dear!” Mrs Hudson replied, and smiled to Violet. Violet smiled back, thanking her again. She truly was grateful. She has not received help this pleasurable ever since she could remember. All her life, she lived a cruel life consisting of losing her parents, abuse, bullying and harassment. She found it hard to believe that she is now living a successful life as an admired lecturer at such a prestigious university. When she was a child, studying was her only escapism, so a part of her was not too surprised.

They went downstairs, exiting the expensive-looking home. Violet now had a problem of what to do with her bicycle. She could leave it there chained up, or use it while Sherlock hails a cab.

“Um, Sherlock? My bike-“

“Leave it. I’d prefer if you came with me. We do have things to talk about.” Sherlock interrupted the young woman.

“You’re sounding like you’re threatening me…”

“No, I am not. But I do want to know why in the world you would come to me like this.” He said with a hint of irritation in his speech.

“I already told-“Violet whimpered, not having a clue on why he was beginning to get angry.

“You didn’t even have a second thought, did you? You thought of me before the police. I demand to know why.” Sherlock said as he caught a taxi going past, opening the door and going in first. Wow, what a gentleman, Violet thought sarcastically. But she chose to ignore his action of ill manners.

“Because I trust you as much as I did when we were children, Sherlock. And I do not trust anyone whom might be a threat to me…”She said no more, with her voice trailing off.

“’Threat’? What’ threat’? I think you should be aware that I may be even more threatening that the police, Miss Smith.” He was getting quite annoyed. But not with her, but with himself. He was beginning to scare her a little, even thought he had no reason to. He was close to her when they were children, and he felt an urge of guilt as he shoves his harshness into her face like that. He was also angry at himself for letting himself take a seemingly pointless case just because he knows the client from childhood. Was she becoming another one of Magnussen’s so-called ‘Pressure Points’? Sherlock didn’t want to jump to conclusions, however.

Violet sat quietly, speechless. She could not believe that despite so many years which have passed, he is the same little arrogant child. But she also felt sorry for him, and how so many other peers treated him in school. He was called a ‘freak’,’ outsider,’ ‘reject’. But she defended him, since she was also an outsider. Her shy persona was a disadvantage in an environment where socializing was encouraged.

“Violet..I’m..sorry.” Sherlock managed to have the guts to say to break the silence. Violet smiled in return, relieved, and their ride to her destination eased the physical pain in her chest.

Her heart condition sometimes got the better of her, with her heart rate marking her life at great risk. Her blood vessels were weak, and any elevation or stress on the heart could make them burst. So throughout the years, Violet had managed to learn to control herself, her emotions, and even her heart itself. But hearing him apologise made her heart sink from hope. Maybe he has changed, for the better. Some little things that dodge Miss Hunter’s self-control abilities make her grin even wider, especially someone like Sherlock Holmes.


End file.
